Brave is a Noun
by Petroica traversi
Summary: Gregory and Kyle get stoned. Christophe disapproves. Set during my other fic, The Fight. Pointless little one-shot.


So this one-shot fits somewhere into my other fic, The Fight. I'm not sure it'll make much sense if you haven't read that, but what the hell. Long story short, Gregory has been shot in the leg, and found a new way of dulling the pain. Kyle joins in. This basically has no plot, FYI, just stoned silliness.

X

The first sign that something was off was the sound of Gregory's laughter coming from the office. Kyle had heard him laugh before, naturally, but that was more of an amused chuckle than anything. Gregory was a fairly serious guy, and the raucous laughter and silly giggling he was hearing seemed way out of character.

Christophe and Gregory had shut themselves into the office about an hour ago, and though Kyle really didn't want to interrupt whatever might be going on in there, he was getting pretty bored, and desperately wanted to retrieve his laptop from his desk. So with that in mind, he knocked on the office door, hoping he wouldn't be interrupting some bizarre sex game or something.

He was surprised when Gregory opened the door, practically drowning in one of Christophe's hoodies. He looked giddy, and slightly bleary-eyed, but it wasn't until a familiar scent wafted out of the room that Kyle realized what was going on.

"Are you guys smoking pot?" he asked, slightly stunned. He didn't think either Gregory or Christophe was the type to indulge in that sort of thing.

Gregory just laughed at the question, leaning heavily upon the door frame. Christophe appeared behind him, his face a bizarre mixture of annoyance and amusement.

"Gregory ees," he said, "Your friend Kenny gave eet to 'im. They figured it would 'elp 'im deal with the pain."

"Looks like it's working," Kyle observed, as Gregory turned around to face Christophe, draping his arms around his shoulders for support and grinning at his exasperated face.

"Ah oui, I would agree with zat. I don't think he 'as ever smoked pot before... he seems to be enjoying 'imself though."

"You should smoke too, darling," he said, stroking Christophe's cheek lovingly, "I've never seen you high."

"And you never will," Christophe answered, walking his inebriated boyfriend back over to the pull-out sofa and making him sit down, "I 'ave only smoked pot once, and I did not like eet."

Gregory turned to Kyle, and he knew what he was going to ask before he even opened his mouth.  
>"Do you want to smoke with me, Kyle?"<p>

Kyle looked at Christophe, who just shrugged back at him.  
>"Suit yourself," he said, "I do not care."<p>

He hadn't smoked since high school, hadn't felt the need to. That was back when he was still walking on eggshells with Stan, trying to hide his feelings for his best friend, and dealing with the stress of it by getting high with Kenny on weekends, instead of getting drunk at parties with Stan. He was afraid that he'd slip up with Stan if they got drunk together, but ironically the exact opposite had happened; Stan had drunkenly stumbled into his bedroom late one night after a party, crawled into bed with him, and kissed him on the mouth without saying a word. Kyle had been elated, but also scared and confused, and it wasn't until a very awkward conversation the next morning that he learned of Stan's feelings for him. They officially became an item a few weeks later, and Kyle hadn't felt the need to smoke since then.

But times were tough, and being in a crowded house was getting on Kyle's nerves more than he'd admit to anyone. Maybe getting ridiculously high was the answer he was looking for to deal with his stress.

"I'm in," he said.

X

"Oh my god, what if werewolves really could drive?" exclaimed Gregory, laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

Before taking a hit off the bowl, Kyle had insisted they watch one of his favorite episodes of Mystery Science Theater 3000, knowing full well that a sober Gregory probably wouldn't enjoy it, but maybe he would when he was stoned off his ass. Kyle hadn't been disappointed.

"Shit, dude," said Kyle as he reached for the bag of Cheesy Poofs, "we'd all be so fucked. They'd, like, purposely rear-end people just so they could bite them or eat them or whateverthefuck werewolves do."

Gregory seemed to only be half paying attention to him as he spoke, too busy laughing at the driving werewolf as it crashed its car into a wall of barrels to listen to Kyle's response. Normally Kyle would be annoyed at being ignored, but he couldn't really bring himself to care. This was why he loved getting high back in the day. It was a rare opportunity to stop worrying so much about everything and just enjoy whatever was going on around him.

Gregory was laughing so hard at the movie that he was in tears, and Kyle watched as he wiped at his eyes, and then draped himself across Christophe's lap, burying his face in his stomach.

Christophe seemed to be the only one not enjoying himself, but Kyle couldn't really bring himself to care about that, either. They'd offered to let him leave, but he'd insisted on staying to keep an eye on Gregory. He wasn't too impressed with their choice in programming, but he didn't seem to mind his boyfriend lounging all over him, pawing at his legs and using his various body parts to muffle his laughter.

"Oh shit," said Kyle suddenly, "Oh man, I really wish I had one of those peanut butter wafer things that are in the kitchen. A, um, a Nutty Bar."

"A what?" asked Gregory, looking intrigued.

"It's a shitty American snacky food. Peanut butter and wafer things and chocolate."

"Oh fuck, that sounds amazing," rolling off Christophe's lap and looking as though he was about to get up.

"Where ze fuck do you think you are going?" asked Christophe, pulling him back down.

"I need one of these peanut butter things."

"I will get you one, stay 'ere. You will just 'urt yourself eef you try to walk right now, idiot."

"Get me one too, please!" shouted Kyle after him as he left the room, and received only a grunt as a response.

Beside him Gregory flopped back down against the pillows, rolling around against them and moaning contentedly.

"How's your leg feel?" Kyle asked.

"Oh, much better," Gregory sighed, burying his face against one of the pillows, "Everything feels great right now. ...This pillow smells like Christophe," he moaned happily.

Kyle laughed until his face hurt, nearly falling off the bed. Gregory was chuckling, too, his face still buried against the pillow.

"Does it smell like dirt?" Kyle asked, "Hey. Hey. I have a question. What is Christophe's deal with dirt?"

"What do you mean?" Gregory asked, finally lifting his face from the pillow.

"What do I mean? Like, he, he likes to dig and be dirty and stuff, why?"

"Oh, fuck, I don't know, maybe it makes him feel all manly and stuff, I have no idea."

They were both startled as the man in question walked back into the room, chucking Nutty Bars at the both of them.

"Your stupid peanut butter things," he said, sitting back down beside Gregory, who threw aside his Christophe-scented pillow to climb back into the lap of the real thing.

"Darling," he asked, straddling his boyfriend's legs and clumsily running his hands through his hair, "Why do you like dirt so much?"

Christophe just stared back at him with a scowl upon his face, before answering, "Why does anyone like anything? Why do you like this stupid show? Can we watch something else?"

Gregory looked uncertainly at Kyle, who sighed and pulled his laptop toward him, trying to find something else to put on.

"Do you like dirt more than you love me?" Gregory continued, planting light kisses on his boyfriend's face.

Christophe just rolled his eyes, glancing warily at Kyle to see if he was watching their display of affection. He seemed too occupied with his computer to notice, though.

"Of course I do not," he finally answered, "Dirt ees just dirt. Although spending time een ze dirt might be preferable to being with you when you are like zis."

Gregory looked slightly wounded by this comment, but didn't pull away from his grumpy partner.

"You should get high too, Christophe," Kyle said, still fiddling around on Netflix, "Then maybe you'd lose the stick that's in your ass."

"It's not a stick," said Gregory. He had a serious look upon his face, which then cracked into a grin. "It's a shovel!" he shouted, laughing. Christophe looked as though he wanted nothing more than to shove Gregory off his lap, which only made Kyle laugh harder. Somewhere in the haze of his thoughts he felt a little sorry for Christophe, having to babysit two giggling stoners, but they'd given him ample opportunities to amend his situation.

"What are you putting on?" asked Christophe, scowling in his direction.

"Blue Planet," Kyle answered, "It's my favorite thing to watch when I'm high. Just put it on with no volume, and play some chill music and watch the magic happen."

Christophe looked like he was going to make another biting remark, but was interrupted when Gregory finally took a bite of his Nutty Bar.

"Oh Jesus Christ," he moaned, with a mouthful of food, "Holy fuck this is so fucking good."

"I told you!" said Kyle, laughing as he selected a playlist on his computer.

"Here, Christophe, you must try this," Gregory exclaimed, trying to shove a piece of it in his boyfriend's mouth.

"Eet smells disgusting, get away!" he said, leaning as far back as he could without falling over or knocking Gregory off his lap. Gregory just shrugged and stuffed more of the Nutty Bar into his own mouth.

"Your loss," he said thickly.

They settled down eventually, enthralled with the swirling sea life on the screen, and relaxed by the music Kyle had put on. At some point he'd felt it was vitally important for him to tell Gregory that he really wanted to have a wallaby for a pet some day, but when he looked over at his companion he saw that he'd fallen asleep, draped across Christophe's chest. Christophe had an arm around him, and was fiddling with Gregory's hair. When he noticed Kyle's stare he gazed back at him, with an expression on his face that Kyle couldn't quite decipher.

The last thing he remembered was a jellyfish gliding gracefully across his laptop screen, and the lyrics, "Sometimes I can't believe it, I'm moving past the feeling," coming from his speakers. He felt good; like he'd really needed this.

He wakes up the next morning, draped against one of the arms of the sleeper sofa. Someone is shaking him.

"Rise and shine!" says Kenny, characteristically exuberant. Kyle kind of wants to punch him in the face, but he stretches instead, trying to relieve the crick in his neck. He kicks something warm, and realizes Christophe and Gregory are still at the other end of the bed, wrapped tightly around each other.

"Have fun last night?" Kenny asks, "Stan came in to try and get you to go to bed with him last night, but you mumbled something at him about how weird socks are, and then passed back out."

Kyle doesn't respond, still slightly disoriented, and his accidental kick must have awoken Christophe, who is now glaring at Kenny.

"What?" Kenny asks, unperturbed.

"Zat will never 'appen again," he says, still glaring.

"What," Kenny asks, confused, "Did Gregory not enjoy himself?"

Christophe doesn't answer, just looks back down at Gregory, who seems to be awakening against his chest, and Kyle laughs and tells Kenny about their evening.

A little while later and he finds himself sitting alone in the room with Gregory, who is seated beside him, still wrapped up in a blanket and looking groggy.

"That was fun," Kyle says to him, "Not really an experience I ever expected to happen, but fun nonetheless."

Gregory smiles softly at him.

"Why, you thought I was too uptight to do things like that?" he asks.

"Totally," answers Kyle, smiling back at him.

"Well, you're probably right, under normal circumstances," Gregory says, pushing the blankets off his shoulders and stretching his arms, "But, well, for one thing, it did help with the pain in my leg... but more than that, I've found that when you're facing a life-or-death situation, sometimes you just have to let go of things and enjoy the moment. And maybe, sometimes, letting go has to involve illicit substances, because otherwise you'll never stop worrying. I think you and I are similar in that aspect."

Kyle nodded in agreement.

"But anyway, as much fun as that was, I don't think I'll do it again," Gregory said, standing and carefully stretching his wounded leg, "I don't think Christophe would put up with me for long if I became a pot head."

Kyle laughed and followed him as he hobbled out of the room.

"I definitely agree with that," he said.

XXX

Ah yeah, pointless. Please review if you enjoyed it though. Also bonus points to anyone who knows what song those lyrics are from.


End file.
